Two Points Of Pleasure
by rayychel infinity
Summary: Blaine had settled for grabbing his arm and pulling him close, looking around the rapidly emptying hallways before leaning closer and conspiratorially whispering "Sixty-nine" into his ear.


**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own _Glee_, Fox does. And Ryan Murphy.  
>Warnings are: 69ing, minor language.<p>

I'm supposed to be doing other things but I just can't for some reason right now. So here, have more fic that was cross-posted on my Tumblr and the Kink Meme.

TUMBLR IS THAT WAY  
><strong>endofadream [.] tumblr [.] com<strong>

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The first time they try it, everything is horribly, _embarrassingly_ awkward at first.

Kurt's not used to so much extra stimulation when he's blowing Blaine; at the most he's had his hand, from jerking off to rubbing to full-on riding his palm as he swallows around Blaine and comes usually before Blaine can return the favor or even swap Kurt's hand out for his own. Those motions he's acutely aware of since he's the one executing them.

Having Blaine's lips around his cock at the same time Kurt's are around Blaine's, however, proves to be a lot more than either had originally anticipated. For one, Blaine's always been eager and over-the-top: when Kurt's cock is in his mouth, he throws himself into it, adding any and every stimulation possible until Kurt's quaking under him (or above him) and tugging hard, much too hard, at Blaine's hair until his scalp burns and Kurt's coming down his throat with a gasping, shuddery moan. And that's nice, of course, because Blaine's lips are _sinful_ and his tongue seems to be of endless talent.

It's the position, maybe—Blaine had bounced up to him that day, eyes sparkling, and said he'd wanted to try something _new_. When Kurt had only raised a brow in question and finished putting his schoolbooks into his bag, shutting his locker as he began the walk out to his car, Blaine had settled for grabbing his arm and pulling him close, looking around the rapidly emptying hallways before leaning closer and conspiratorially whispering "_Sixty-nine_" into his ear.

And, okay, Kurt would be lying if he said he hadn't thought about it before. Blowjobs can be extremely one-sided, especially at their age when both are prone to still coming in their pants if they keep going too long, and Blaine is _talented_ in that overeager way of his, as well as a natural at making Kurt fall to pieces just by looking at him with cheeks hollowed and lashes fluttering, throat working around the shape of Kurt's cock. So he'd said yes and Blaine had _grinned_ and hugged him. Honestly, they're probably a little more okay now regarding public physical affection, but they don't want to push, and Kurt knows that if he starts kissing Blaine he'll never stop, because when he does any other time he never seems able to.

It starts off okay. They head up to Kurt's room and lock the door, clothes coming off article by article until they're in unbuttoned jeans—trousers, in Blaine's case—and have fallen into a heap on the bed, kicking off the faux fur throw with Kurt nestled between Blaine's legs.

Their kisses are the same, that toe-curling, goosebump-raising mix of _amazing_ and _perfect_ and _desperate_ that they never tire of. Kurt rubs his hand along the length of Blaine through his briefs, squeezes and lets Blaine's moan wash over him.

"How do you—do you want to do this?" he breathes, still lightly rubbing over Blaine's cock, over and over and over as Blaine's breath hitches and shortens and his eyes flutter closed.

"That's fine," Blaine croaks out, clenching the sheets in white-knuckled hands. His mouth falls open and his hips begin to push up into Kurt's touch, stuttering as his thighs fall open wider.

"No, uh-uh. You can't come yet," Kurt says, removing his hand and sitting up. His cock aches and throbs, twitching when he thinks about Blaine's lips wrapped around it. "No one's coming until we assume the position."

Blaine's lips quirk into a half-grin and he lifts up his head to look at Kurt. "What position?"

"First position," Kurt replies immediately with a giggle, flushing pink.

It's been a sort of ongoing joke to them after the first time they'd had sex. They're both still awkward, just kids, after all, and no matter how confident they seem in their heads the truth is that they're anything but outside of them. While Kurt's more open to sex now than he had been, there had still been that lingering awkwardness after their clothes were completely off for the first time and _oh god_ there was Blaine propped above him, _straddling_ him, blissfully naked and slightly sweaty with his cock—_oh god and now Kurt really, really knows why he's gay_—heavy and full and flushed dark between his legs.

And, flustered and turned on and hot, so hot, Kurt had stupidly opened his mouth, still trying not to gape so openly at the way Blaine's cock bobbed when he shifted his hips slightly, and said, "Should I, uh, um . . . assume the position?"

Blaine had looked at him in silence for a few seconds before he'd finally laughed and _kept_ laughing until Kurt had huffed and slapped his arm, burning red as he'd muttered "shut up" over and over until Blaine had calmed down.

"I suppose first position would be apropos, given our situation," Blaine had said with a wink, ducking down to kiss Kurt until his breath was gone and the need was back and stronger than ever.

"Fine, fine," Blaine says in the present, getting up to push his trousers and briefs down and off. Kurt hurriedly undoes his own (and he most certainly _does_ stare at Blaine's ass since he _can_) and reaches for Blaine the moment he turns around, pulling him back down onto the bed as they kiss and rub and breathe harshly against saliva-slick lips.

"So?" Blaine asks, hands gripped tight to Kurt's shoulders.

"Um." Kurt's forehead scrunches up in concentration. "You on your back, I think."

And they end up with Blaine spread out, Kurt feeling horribly vulnerable as he straddles Blaine's chest backwards. He trusts Blaine, _loves_ him even, but as he takes the familiar weight of Blaine's cock, slick at the tip and hot against his palm, in hand, he can't help but know that he's on full display to Blaine, know that Blaine's mouth is inches from his ass and he doesn't think that _either_ of them have seen the other so intimately before. It brings rimming to mind, surfaces the countless late-night fantasies Kurt's had between his sheets about Blaine: Blaine licking him open, Blaine with lips and cheeks smeared with saliva, his tongue having just been inside Kurt's ass only moments before.

He leans down, bracing his weight on his left arm, and licks over the head of Blaine's cock. He feels Blaine's body shift under him, feels his ribs expand as he inhales deeply, moans, and then Blaine's mouth is on his balls, just the pressure of the wet circle of his lips, but it's _new_ and Kurt's moaning now, sinking further and letting his tongue run along the length of Blaine's cock as he hollows his cheeks. The angle is strange, _weird_ with Blaine falling differently on his tongue than he's used to.

Falling into the rhythm is easy even if he jerks forward and takes too much of Blaine in at one time, choking as Blaine easily slides his mouth over Kurt's cock from behind, straining upward with his palm curled around the back of Kurt's thigh. It's not perfect and it's not _spectacular_, if Kurt's going to be honest, but it's them and they're trying, experimenting, and that's something.

His arm is aching at holding up so much weight and Blaine has a bad habit of jerking his hips up if Kurt's arm isn't there to hold him down. There are only so many times that he can pull back before Blaine inevitably chokes him.

The angle's difficult for Blaine, too, and if Kurt were bolder he'd scoot back a few inches, but just the thought of his dick being _that_ close to Blaine's face, no matter how much Blaine may like it, makes Kurt flush darker than before.

When he finally can't escape an erratic buck of the hips and has to pull back, spluttering and watery-eyed, he chokes out, "Blaine, Blaine, _stop_. This isn't working."

Immediately Blaine does, letting his mouth slide off of Kurt's cock. The air of the room is cool against the saliva and Kurt hisses, shifting slightly."What's wrong, baby?" There's nothing but concern in Blaine's voice, worry and apprehension and if Kurt wasn't so _annoyed_ right now he'd find it endearing.

Kurt sighs and carefully climbs off of Blaine, moving the wrist that had been propping him up back and forth. The skin at the joint is sore and an angry red from being bunched up for so long, and finally it _pops_ with a few more shakes.

Blaine's propped up on his elbows, mouth red and slick, swollen, and Kurt stares for a few beats, memorizing the way Blaine's hair sticks out in odd tufts, the way he looks naked and open like this, Kurt's own saliva shining on his cock where it rests against his abdomen. "I think—here, let me try this . . .," Kurt murmurs, more to himself as he cocks his head and thinks.

After a little shifting Kurt's resting his head on Blaine's thigh, right arm pinned between that and the bed. He's twisted his body slightly outward, chest pressed to Blaine's hip and his own hips angled slightly away, enough that Blaine can fit his right arm under Kurt's thighs and use his left hand to grab his hips and pull him a little closer.

"I swear, if you try and choke me again," Kurt warns, but there's no real heat in it. The heat's relocated to his stomach, the very pit of it as he takes a moment to look at Blaine's cock from this angle, at the dark patch of pubic hair it rests in, and god, Blaine is perfect even down to his _dick_, the one part of his anatomy that shouldn't ever have the adjectives "perfect" and "beautiful" attached to it but, of course, like everything else on Blaine it _is_. He touches with teasing fingertips, brushing light like a butterfly's wings, and watches with fascination as Blaine's cock twitches up off his stomach and Blaine groans low in his throat.

Like this it feels a little more natural, less like he's on display, and this time when he sinks down over Blaine's cock he can use the weight of his forearm to pin his hips down. And when Blaine licks up the length of Kurt's cock, tongue broad and wet and thick up until he points it to trace around the ridge the head, Kurt moans deep in his throat around Blaine's cock and digs his fingers slightly into Blaine's skin, trying his best not to push his hips forward.

It's different, there's no denying that, and they could both use some work, but Blaine's grunting and panting, working his mouth slickly up and down; this is more familiar, this he can get used to. The hand that's trapped beneath Kurt's thighs digs at the swell of his ass, moving briefly upward to cup his balls and roll them in his palm, his free hand wrapped around the base of his cock in a twisting pull.

He works quicker, hollowing his cheeks on every slide up, pulling back to circle his tongue around the smooth head; dip into the slit to hear Blaine whine and quiver under his weight, try to buck up but finding himself restrained.

The two points of pleasure they're experiencing, one physical and one emotional at pleasing and being pleased, tips Kurt over the edge a lot faster than he would like. He takes as much of Blaine in as he dares, sinking down until the tip of his cock hits the back of his throat before pulling back up with cheeks hollowed as tightly as possible. Blaine moans around his cock, deep and throaty, and fists him tight, the way he knows Kurt likes when he's about to come, and that's all it takes for him to jerk and start coming down Blaine's throat, Blaine's cock falling from his lips as he moans helplessly and gasps out a too-late warning against the warm skin of Blaine's hip. He reaches down to grab Blaine's arm and squeeze as Blaine swallows as quickly as he can, eyes fallen shut and fist pumping Kurt through his orgasm.

When Kurt twitches from oversensitivity Blaine slides off, running his tongue over his lips and cutting off the strand of saliva and come that had been connecting him to Kurt's cock. There's some come at the corner of his mouth, his chin is shiny with saliva, and he looks so _sated_ without even having come that Kurt is immediately extracting himself, twisting around until he can kiss Blaine heatedly, licking up the come that Blaine couldn't swallow and feeding it to him. He's long since overcome the oddity that is tasting himself—that had ended pretty quickly when they'd tried snowballing for the first time a month or so back.

He presses Blaine back down onto the bed when he tries to get up, stretching out beside him and taking Blaine's cock in hand, rubbing his thumb over the slit. Blaine moans into Kurt's mouth, grabs at his shoulder as Kurt tightens and loosens his fist periodically as he works over him, the slide slickened by his own saliva.

"I love you," he whispers against Blaine's neck, sucking a light mark when Blaine tips his head to the side with a sigh. His pulse is racing where Kurt's lips ghost over it.

"Love you, Kurt, oh _god_," Blaine gasps, head falling back. "Close."

Kurt kisses Blaine's chin, then his forehead, his nose, and finally makes it back down to his lips, tasting himself and sweat and Blaine. He tightens and turns his wrist at the head of Blaine's cock, pressing against the ridge and nerves underneath, and Blaine's coming over Kurt's fingers and his stomach with a violent buck up into the circle of Kurt's fist and a high-pitched keening moan that seems ripped out of his throat.

"Crap," Blaine breathes out, staring up at the ceiling as he sags into the sheets.

Kurt gives one last stroke down the length of Blaine's cock, then pulls away to reach for the tissues to wipe his hand off. They'll get completely cleaned up later when their minds are clearer and limbs a little less heavy. "I don't think 'crap' even begins to cover it."

Blaine sighs contentedly, looking down at the mess on his stomach. He wrinkles his nose and says, "Maybe we should get cleaned up."

"In a bit." Kurt draws in close, pressing himself tightly against Blaine. "Right now I just want to enjoy you."

Blaine kisses the top of his head and rubs his hand up and down Kurt's bare arm. "Ten minutes."

Kurt laughs against his chest, rubbing his fingers in absent circles through the light smattering of dark chest hair Blaine has on his chest. "Fine. Ten minutes."

Ten minutes later, they're still pressed together.


End file.
